


No, You Can't Run Away (You Wouldn't)

by minhonew



Category: SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Humor, Kid Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 11:53:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5784391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minhonew/pseuds/minhonew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years ago, she left everything behind and made herself swear to never look back. But, fooling lady luck always has dire consequences. Now, she must face her past and connect it with her present to build a good future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 4 Years Ago

The thing was, this happened whenever a heartbreak—no matter if it was as big as the universe or as small as a speck of dust—coaxed the inner _man,_ inside her bestfriend, out.

_“Tell me what you want,” the words are whispered so hotly into her ear, followed by a wet, sensual lick that has her shivering so violently. The voice is deep and smooth, laced tightly with lust, pouring from those impossibly plump lips, that even though her eyes are shut so tightly, she could still vividly picture the soft flesh as they wrap around every word. “I’ll give you anything.”_

See, her bestfriend of ten long years was gay and proud, very much so. Men flocked around him like bees to a flower and he thrived on that, swaying his hips and flaunting his assets (emphasis on the _ass_ for a great punch line). In addition to that, he was also a romantic. Sure he fooled around—on a bed with random strangers that he couldn’t, for the life of him, find afterwards—at times, but he was serious about love and relationships more often than not, claiming that he wanted to find that special someone soon.

On the background, blending in, was little miss goody two-shoes, the heroine of the story. Very much unlike her loud friend, she was reserved and was often one with the wall, shying away from opportunities that would launch her to the top. What was her reason? She firmly believed that she was not, in any way, remarkable.

However, he had a different opinion about her; he _adored_ her, believed that she was the most awesome girl that someone like him could only hope to be friends with.

Despite their clashing characteristics, they just sort of _clicked._ He said that she was the big sister that, as late as it was, prayed to have (“Shouldn’t you just pray for a baby sister?” she would laugh as he crossed his arms, sulking). She never failed to tell him that he was the yin to her yang.

Their friendship was among one of the hottest topics for discussion during lunch breaks back in high school, with their former schoolmates debating whether it was just a phase that the popular, handsome guy was going through, that he would soon grow tired of spending time with miss nobody and then finally socialize with the people who held the same social status as him. Years have passed, though, until it became a whopping, jumping-for-joy ten with the two still connected at the hip.

_Breathless as if she had run a marathon, she reaches for his cheek, cupping it gently. “I want you to make me feel loved.”_

_“You are,” he confirms with a slur, one of his hands already making its way down and past the waistband of her white lace panty. Seconds after, a long finger is teasing her very core, brushing her soaking walls. With a stuttering gasp, she shakes her head sadly. “That’s where you’re—Ahh!—wrong. I’m n-not.”_

She would never admit it, but she was very much in love with her bestfriend. He was strong, sweet and he understood her. He was everything she had wanted in a man, yet she knew that she was destined to only be a friend. She had witnessed her friend ramble on about a man that he liked, for countless of times now, and she had been there for him when he then cried about how painful it was to get your hopes and dreams up, only to get trampled on by the same person.

Oh how she knew about that alright. Except it was just a case of déjà vu with watching the love of her life, who also happened to be her gay bestfriend, constantly fall for someone other than her.

_Big, warm hands and a skillful wet tongue are a dangerous combination, she internally muses, currently being subjected to the two. She is reduced to a moaning, writhing mess of a woman as he worships her body with his palms and maps the inside of her mouth with his tongue. He is practically around her, surrounding her with his heady scent and encasing her in his gentle warmth. She couldn’t help but think that this is her own little piece of heaven, all complete with the limited time of one night only and until another relationship ended in a heartbreak. But, she wouldn’t complain._

_After all, beggars cannot be choosers._

The very latest man lasted for almost a year. She believed that this was the last and finally what her bestfriend was looking for. In spite of the pain, she was also happy; her friend found his forever. Surely, when he was not around her any longer, she would finally have the time to sit down, talk herself into forgetting and then, eventually, find her own peace.

She was wrong.

As it turned out, it was the most devastating break up that her friend was subjected into. It was their sixth month anniversary that night and, being the hopeless romantic that he is, her bestfriend got off of work early to surprise his boyfriend with a promise ring of spending forever together. His boyfriend, who was a med student that he was helping through, was supposed to be in their home, studying for the midterms. However, when he went home straight to their bedroom, there was an absence of notes and books; instead what he found was a naked brunette and his equally bare boyfriend in _their_ own bed, engaged in passionate love making. After the shock of seeing them cleared up ever so slightly, it was a disaster. He screamed his throat raw, startling the couple on the bed into scrambling up. He went to the kitchen, got his favorite knife and used it to chase the two away from his house.

After the commotion, he drove himself to his bestfriend’s place, his whole face swollen, blotchy and red from crying. In the circle of her arms, he cried harder and then fell asleep.

_“It’s just for tonight,” she pleads desperately, the hand that she has on his cheek drops down and joins the other one in shaking him slightly. “Make me feel like I’m worth your forever.”_

_He pauses in his ministrations and she instantly panics, thinking that he is sobering up and is now taking her words into heart. Maybe she finally—stupidly—started a crack that was spreading rapidly on their rock hard friendship with her stupid words and it wouldn’t be long until it will break into tiny pieces._

_“You are,” he only repeats his earlier words, but this time, she swears that the slur is gone or maybe it is just her thinking that it was._

Throughout the years, she had memorized, by heart, the way of how to help her friend mend and put together the pieces of his broken heart. She had done it so many times before, that her fingers and toes—in both of her hands and feet—were not enough to keep count.

Despite the fact that no two days were the same, everything always started with brunch. She will wake up earlier than him, trace his peaceful sleeping visage with her eyes and then prepare his favorite breakfast: a steaming bowl of oats topped with his favorite fruits (strawberry, banana and kiwi), a plate with a tall stack of french toasts and then a hot cup of coffee the way he wanted it—no cream and two teaspoons of sugar. Plus, just so she will be able to pull a smile out of him, she will turn the TV on, pop in his favorite movie (Just Wright) into the DVD player and then wake him up just before it started.

During the afternoon, they will do all sorts of things that he liked doing—watch more movies, play chess and other board games, try out different recipes. Sometimes, he would ask her to read aloud a novel while he played with her long hair, braiding it or just twisting a lock around his finger.

Come nighttime, she will then put on her most club-worthy clothes: dark denim skinny jeans and a brightly-colored blouse with a modest v-cut that showed just enough cleavage from her impressively sized breasts. She will wear her hair down and meet up with him just outside of her bedroom door. Together, they will drive down to the local club to dance and drink the pain away. Just shy of midnight, she will then drag her friend out of the club, staggering under his weight as he giggled drunkenly.

It was a routine that she followed and the next stop after a short cab ride will be the motel next to his apartment building (she never once had the courage to drop him off to his apartment for fear of getting too familiar). Luckily, the staff there knew them well enough, but they never once told her friend that it was always her that was with him there at night and left before the sun rose over the horizon.

_He enters her in one swift motion, almost with practiced ease, and moves immediately. She cries out in a mixture of surprise and a bit of pain, her hands flying up to clutch his arms tightly. She moans and mewls with every thrust of his hips, his erection driving deeper into her. Her whole body shakes with pleasure, which is magnified tenfold whenever she remembers that it was him inside of her, that it has always been him and nobody else._

_She is greedy, that much she admits to herself, furiously drinking in his face as he pounds into her senselessly. He is dead drunk and so totally out of it, but she is long past caring. All that matters to her is the way his face contorts into so many expressions as they dance to this intimate rhythm._

_During these times, she likes to pretend that he is with her every step of the way, that he feels the same way towards her as she does towards him. It is with this thought that she always comes undone, falling apart underneath him with no hope of being gathered and glued together again by his big hands._

_“I love you,” she would then whisper softly as he follows suit, climaxing inside of her with a sharp cry that was never her name. A teardrop would soon show up, fat and clear, rolling down her cheek. “I love you so much.”_

 


	2. And They Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Minki baby? What’s going on here?” a soft feminine (and achingly familiar, Minho mused) voice interrupted just as the door to the bathroom swung open. Minho looked up, noticing that the woman spoke in Korean. A second later, a figure emerged out of the open door, yawning.
> 
> Minho’s jaw dropped when his eyes met that same old gentle ones of his best friend. “Eunsook.”
> 
> “Minho,” Eunsook gasped.

Lee Eunsook, disheveled and clad in just a coat thrown on top of her old college org shirt and pajama pants, clutched her four year old son close to herself as she rushed to reach the nurse’s desk. It was two in the morning and the only nurse present on the nurse’s station was a lanky faux blonde with sharp feline-like eyes and bow-shaped lips, who was furiously scribbling down on a notebook. He was obviously Korean and Eunsook almost stopped herself from asking for his help. However, Minki, her son, started whining softly in his fitful sleep—effectively pushing Eunsook’s wounded pride to the back of her mind. He was more important than Eunsook’s pride.

“Excuse me,” Eunsook started, earning the undivided attention of the nurse. “My s-son…he’s sick. He’s been vomiting a lot since yesterday afternoon and I thought it was just something that he ate. But then, he got down with a fever last night—“

The nurse held up a hand and stepped out of his desk to approach Eunsook. He smiled kindly at her, a dimple making its appearance on the young man’s right cheek. “Let’s go and have our present pediatrician have a look at him.”

The pediatrician was a round man with graying hair and a gentle smile that lifted his sagging cheeks up. On his desk were several picture frames, each one with him, a smiling woman and a dark-haired girl featured in it. His name was on a rectangular chunk of polished wood, proud and bold on the center: Dr. Claude S. Miller M.D.

Eunsook fidgeted beside him as he checked up on Minki, listening to the little boy’s heartbeat and then taking his temperature with a few note-taking in between. He also called the nurse from earlier a few times, in each one, the young man was asked to bring or schedule something.

It was around 3:30 in the morning, a solid hour and a half after Eunsook had brought her son in, that Minki was diagnosed with flu and dehydration. He was confined to the pediatric ward, room 402. He was hooked up to a saline drip and for the first time since yesterday, he was peacefully sleeping.

Eunsook sighed in relief, holding her son’s little hand in hers, when a soft knock ruptured the deafening silence of the room. She craned her neck to the side in time to see the doorknob turn and then for a familiar face to peek in and smile at her. The blonde nurse, seeing that he was allowed to enter, stepped quietly inside the room. He closed the door behind him and approached Eunsook.

“Here,” he said, passing a cup of steaming coffee in front of Eunsook. “I wasn’t sure how you preferred your coffee so I took the liberty to put in a spoon of cream and two sugars. I hope you don’t mind.”

Eunsook smiled, blowing on the coffee before taking a sip. The hot liquid warmed her insides, especially her heart. “Thanks. That is exactly how I want my coffee,” she said sincerely.

“It’s how most people want their coffee too,” the man grinned. He approached Minki and carefully fluffed up the pillow behind his head. “I’m Key…or do you want to know my real name? The Korean one?”

With a pause, Eunsook lowered the cup of coffee. This young nurse sure knew how to go straight for the kill. “Thank you for all the help, Key.”

Key eyed Eunsook thoughtfully before he reached up to check Minki’s dextrose. “It’s Kim Kibum. What’s your name, _noona_?”

The honorific awakened something deep inside Eunsook, a feeling that she had tucked away in the very corner of herself, not forgotten but merely suppressed. Hearing Kibum call her noona felt like the past was suddenly back, knocking on the door of her heart and mind, asking to be let in once again, to be remembered. Her shoulders tensed while her hands closed tightly around the cup, some of the liquid spilling onto her pajama pants.

“Emma,” she murmured. The English name, which was known by only a handful of people, felt foreign on her tongue even after years of using it.

Kibum’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and disbelief but he said nothing more until he finished checking up on Minki and handed a blanket to Eunsook. “Get some rest, noona. I’ll see you in the morning…well, more like later, but whatever.”

With Kibum gone, Eunsook finally allowed herself to press a relieved smile onto Minki’s cheek as she kissed him. Afterwards, she laid her head beside her son’s tiny body and closed her eyes, ready to catch some much needed sleep.

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

Choi Minho hummed lightly under his breath as he washed his hands thoroughly, making sure to scrub under his fingernails. It was the start of his shift and today he was feeling extra excited because he was assigned to his favorite part of the hospital—the pediatric ward. Taking a wad of paper towel, he turned the faucet off, threw them and got another wad to dry his hands. Afterwards, he checked himself on the mirror, smoothing his bright blue scrubs down and practicing his smile. Sure that he looked fine and friendly enough, he exited the small washroom. He headed straight to the nurse’s desk just in time to see, his roommate and friend, Kibum, off.

“I saved you some of last night’s dinner,” Minho told the yawning blonde. “It’s in the fridge, just heat it up. Also, there’s still coffee in the pot, if you want some.”

Kibum smiled and collected his things. “Yes, mother. I think I’ll settle for a warm glass of milk, though. The mere thought of coffee slithering down my throat—again, mind you—makes me feel sick.”

Just then, a doctor passed by. He was tall (taller against Minho by a couple of inches), ivory-skinned, with a head of light brown hair and a pair of wide, blue eyes. He paused behind Minho, clapping a friendly hand on his back, but the strict expression on his face was anything but amicable. “Minho,” he started, the name rolling off of his tongue with a thick English accent. “Speaking in Korean again, huh? I thought the hospital rules and regulations made it clear to only speak in English during your shift?”

Kibum rolled his eyes at that, speaking in flawless English this time, “Dr. Davis, my shift is over. It ended for almost fifteen minutes already.”

The doctor nodded and removed his hand from where it still rested on Minho’s shoulder. “Very well,” he said before sending them one last stern look and then hurrying off to where he was supposed to go.

“Stupid,” Kibum grumbled in his native tongue, making Minho laugh.

“Hey, stop it. For all we know, that guy has biologic ears,” Minho chided lightly, speaking in English now just to make sure. He leaned over the counter and pulled his own clipboard out. It was painted a bright yellow with different animal stickers stuck onto it. “He might hear you from where he is right now. Plus, he’s a cardiologist. I’m sure he’s far from stupid.”

Laughter bubbled out of Kibum way before his retort did. “It’s bionic ears, Minho, not biologic.” When he had calmed down enough, he nudged a flustered Minho out of the way and journeyed to the nurse lounge. “See you at home, later.”

Two years ago was when Minho set foot on the land of the most powerful country, United States of America, specifically in New York. He was a registered nurse by then, fresh-faced and eager to start anew, have a taste of the famed western culture, maybe also make a name for himself in the medical field before continuing his studies to be a pediatrician and ultimately distract himself from the depression that pestered him.

Minho was a hard worker, often praised by his superiors, and it was all because he wanted to forget the past that continuously haunted him. He worked way past his shifts and on his off days, he took up volunteer work, wheeling food carts into rooms and sometimes helping the hospital’s cook in making them. Every single thing that he did was a welcome distraction and soon enough, the memory and pain of being left alone so suddenly was pushed to the back of his mind, where it no longer made him feel like a worthless excuse of a human being.

“Oh, we have a new patient?” Minho smiled to himself as he tucked his clipboard underneath his arm and knocked lightly on the door. There was a muffled ‘Come in!’ only seconds after. Minho pushed the door open, stepped inside the room and looked around. In the hospital bed, he saw a little boy, who was looking curiously at him. He was about to wonder where the boy’s parents were when he heard the sound of running water coming from the small bathroom inside.

“Hi, little one,” he greeted warmly as he discreetly checked the patient’s name on his clipboard. One of Minho’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he read the name that was written on the sheet of paper. He was sure that the little boy was Korean like him. “You’re Michael? Lee Michael?”

The boy made a face that Minho was strangely reminded of himself—of course, with a few alterations here and there. Minho couldn’t shake the feeling that as he continued gazing at the boy it was like he was looking at himself into a mirror. The face that stared back at him had a pair of big, chocolate brown orbs, a hooked nose and a pair of lips that looked unnervingly familiar. “I don’t like that name,” the boy mumbled. “It’s hard to s-say.”

Minho was suddenly snapped out of his scrutiny and chuckled. “You’ll get used to it, Michael,” he started and then leaned forward, cupping a hand against the boy’s ear as if to whisper a big secret. “If it makes you feel any better, my name is Minho. Weird name, right?”

Instead of another scrunched nose just as Minho expected, what he witnessed was the boy’s gloomy expression melting into a bright and excited one. “Really?” the boy parroted, now beaming at Minho. “At home, my mommy calls me—“

“Minki baby? What’s going on here?” a soft feminine (and achingly familiar, Minho mused) voice interrupted just as the door to the bathroom swung open. Minho looked up, noticing that the woman spoke in Korean. A second later, a figure emerged out of the open door, yawning.

Minho’s jaw dropped when his eyes met that same old gentle ones of his best friend. “Eunsook.”

“Minho,” Eunsook gasped.

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

The shock of seeing Minho again was enough to turn Eunsook’s legs into jelly and she had to press a hand against the wall to prevent herself from dropping to her knees in front of him. Beside her friend, she saw her son’s face contort into a look of sheer confusion. Eunsook took a deep breath to compose herself and crossed the room to gather Minki into her arms, soothing him.

“How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Umma?” Minki mumbled into her shirt. Eunsook winced. “Mr. Minho knows your n-name…do you k-know him?”

Eunsook forced herself not to look up and see Minho’s reaction as she answered. Instead, she focused on her son, pressing a kiss on top of his head. “He’s my…friend. Back in Korea. You remember that place, right? It was where mommy was born.”

Minki nodded.

It seemed like Minho had recovered himself as well because at the next second, he quietly crept to the other side of the bed and was checking on Minki’s IV drip. He jotted down something on his clipboard before clearing his throat. “I need to check Michael’s temperature,” he told Eunsook, traces of his warm, cheerful voice—the one that Eunsook came to brand as her best friend’s—gone and replaced by professionalism.

Eunsook reluctantly let go of her son and helped him to lie down, smoothing his hair back.

“Open your mouth, Michael,” Minho murmured warmly to Minki, deciding that the boy shouldn’t be involved in his anger toward Eunsook. He smiled when Minki obediently opened his mouth. He placed the thermometer in after making sure it was set right. Five minutes after (enough time for Minho to have finished listening to the boy’s breathing and heartbeat), a beep sounded from the thermometer. Minho took the device out of Minki’s mouth, checked the temperature that it registered and wrote it down onto his clipboard.

“His temperature has gone down a bit. It’s a good sign,” Minho informed Eunsook, all the while keeping his gaze out of her face. He was afraid that if he saw her face again—the pouty lips or the expressive eyes—it’ll come through him, break down his walls. Just like that he will bear his heart, once again, in front of the one person who swore to never leave him, but broke the promise all the same, just like all the others. He wouldn’t allow it. Not yet, at least. “Dr. Miller will be with you shortly to check up on him again.”

“Thank you,” Eunsook said softly, grateful, before adding, “Minho.”

Minho grunted in acknowledgement, ruffled Minki’s hair fondly and then exited the room. Outside, he released a loud exhale and all but ran towards the nurse’s desk. Those fifteen minutes were among the hardest ones that he had to go through. Not only did Minho’s long buried feelings of anger, pain and longing towards Eunsook were reawakened, but a flood of questions also threatened to make him explode.

How long has she been here in America?

What was she doing here in the first place?

Was she married?

If so, how long has she been married?

Who was Minki’s father?

Did she have another child?

And most importantly…

What was her reason for leaving him so suddenly?

Groaning, Minho plopped down on top of a chair and cradled his head in between his hands. He massaged his temples, willing himself not to cry. To be quite honest, his very first instinct when he caught sight of Eunsook earlier was to run to her, gather her in his arms and just cling to her, feel her solid and warm and real. To reassure himself that it was really Eunsook, his best friend, tangible and not just a part of the many tricks that his mind often liked to play against him. But, he couldn’t do those things. Well, not yet at least. First, they needed to have a talk; a long and truthful one.

“Good morning!” a chipper voice sounded in front of him and Minho didn’t need to look up to see the wide grin that accompanied that greeting. He knew it was Lee Taeyeon, a fellow nurse of his that was, apparently, assigned to this shift as well. He liked her. Sure, she was too energetic for his tastes and that anyone foolish enough to put the two of them together (in their best of moods) in a shift would definitely result in a non-conducive to healing environment, but he couldn’t deny that she was good company.

Of course, that little tidbit only applied to days that didn’t include one Lee Eunsook into its ‘people to bump into at work’ list.

Minho sighed heavily. “Nothing is going ‘good’ this morning.”

Surprised at Minho’s obvious distress, Taeyeon’s eyebrows furrowed, confused and worried. “Is your coffee maker broken again, oppa?”

If not for Eunsook’s face behind his eyelids, haunting him, Minho would have laughed at that. “No.”

“Do you want me to get you some coffee then? Not at the employee lounge, but at the café downstairs. I’ll even get your favorite.”

Touched, Minho politely shook his head. “You don’t have to do that, Taeyeon-ah. Our coffee maker at home is working perfectly. It’s just…today is…one of those days, you know?”

“Ah.”

“Yes.”

Taeyeon nodded sympathetically, as if she knew that it just wasn’t one of _those_ days, patting Minho’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, oppa. Everything will work out just fine, you’ll see.” Then, she picked up her clipboard—lilac with floral stickers—before walking away from the nurse’s station to check up on her patients.

Minho lifted his head, catching Taeyeon as she disappeared inside a room. He shook his head and decided to continue making his rounds to somehow get Eunsook and her son’s face off of his mind. He greeted his patients with warm smiles and kind encouragements, focusing all of his thoughts and energy somewhere else. It didn’t work, though, because as Minho worked through his morning, he was subjected to various memories of his and Eunsook’s times together. They were being played with the clarity of a high-definition video, every single detail painted vividly across Minho’s mind. And as his shift trickled down towards his break, instead of forgetting, Minho was left feeling even more weighed down as the clock proceeded to push the time forward.

During his lunch break, Minho’s mind was made up; he will talk to Eunsook—right now. Not later. Not tonight when his shift ends. Now. Minho was pretty sure that any time other than that will result in him losing his sanity. Never mind that his timing was a little bit off, well okay _more than_ off, with Eunsook in her son’s room, looking over the sweet little boy as he recovered.

“Everything will work out just fine, you’ll see,” Minho repeated Taeyeon’s words earlier in a mumble, encouraging himself as he stood rigid in front of room 402. He raised his hand to knock on the door when it swung open, Eunsook freezing and gaping at him from the other side. Hungrily, Minho took in her face, drinking everything in the span of a minute. She was still beautiful, actually more so than four years ago. It was as if she stopped aging at 20, retaining that youthful face but with a tiny hint of sharpness that wasn’t too overpowering. Her eyes were still the same, bright and gentle, while her lips still looked plump and perpetually soft as ever. Alongside her face, her body remained the same even if she had had Minki—pleasingly curvy with a tiny waist, ample breasts and skin that seemed to glow.

“Umm, h-hi,” Eunsook greeted, voice hushed seeing as Minki was sleeping soundly. She was sure that this confrontation would not take place until tomorrow, after all she knew her friend well. Or so she _thought_ she knew him. Quietly, she closed the door behind her, ducking under Minho’s towering frame afterwards so she could transfer to the other side of the hallway, where the space was bigger. Call it instinctive, but the first thought that ran through Eunsook’s head was to _explain_. “I was getting hungry so I waited for Minki to fall asleep before I sneak out to buy some lunch downstairs at the cafeteria. I mean, I don’t exactly know if there is a cafeteria downstairs or anything. I haven’t seen the whole place and well, maybe there is. You know how hospitals have them on the first floor and stuff? In the movies? Yeah. Umm. I…will shut up now.”

When the rambling abruptly stopped, Minho allowed a half-smile to stretch across his lips. Typical Eunsook. “We need to talk.”

 


	3. Being Honest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho sucked in a breath and released his captive. Eunsook managed to catch a glimpse of his expression closing off before he turned his back to her. “Well,” he started saying. “It has been four years, anyway. I don’t care anymore. Whoever Minki’s father is, I hope you’re happy with him. But give him a heads up will you? He should know that there will come a day that you will just suddenly disappear from his life without any good reason, whatsoever.”

“You…cut your hair.”

Eunsook looked up sharply as the words left Minho’s mouth, one of her hands instinctively traveling towards her cropped hair. She ran her fingers through the short locks with a nod. She knew Minho would comment on it, but she had not expected it to be brought out sooner rather than later. There were so many things, much more important than her short haircut, which the two of them need to discuss. She guessed Minho wanted to start this confrontation with something light. Quite frankly, that was what she wanted, too.

“I wanted a change,” she said softly, by way of explanation. Working up the strength, she turned her head to the side, glancing at her friend.

However, Minho kept his eyes trained on the hustle and bustle that was going on the streets below them, nodding his head. Change. Minho had a great dislike for that word ever since Eunsook left so suddenly. Not only did he lose the sturdy pillar of her support, but he also, lost the brightness that her presence added to his days. Trying not to sound spiteful, he mumbled what he hoped was an indifferent, “Ah.”

Eunsook winced. If before she had doubted the true depth of Minho’s pain, which her sudden departure has caused, now she absolutely did not. He sounded upset just now. It was Eunsook’s time to explain herself…in the closest of terms anyway, at least. She was not yet ready to tell him the full truth. “Listen, Minho…”

“Why did you do it?” Minho cut her off, his tone demanding and confused. By now, he had gathered enough courage to face Eunsook. “Eunsook…why did you leave me?”

Throwing her original plan of confession to the wind, Eunsook’s grip on the railing tightened, her knuckles turning white. Her heart was pounding, the beat deafening.  It was now or never. She swallowed past the lump that has formed in her throat and searched for the right words to say. “I got pregnant with Minki.”

Minho waited for Eunsook to continue, but after a minute has passed, it was clear that she was done. That one sentence was her whole explanation. “That’s it?” Minho’s voice was tight as he fought to regain control of his anger. The pain that he felt back then, when he woke up one day to find out that his best friend was gone, has returned, tenfold in its intensity. Minho’s fists clenched tightly, his gaze hard.

“You disappeared for four years without so much as a damn note and now all you have to say is that it is because someone knocked you up?”

Eunsook’s lower lip quivered and she looked up at Minho. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, but she stood her ground. “You don’t understand…I…”

“Make me understand!” Minho prompted, scrubbing a hand across his face. He was breathing heavily now, still angry but mostly knee-deep in pained confusion. “Eunsook, you owe me at least a bit more than that crap you’re giving me. You were all I had! You…you were my best friend. You swore to be always there for me. But you left and I was suddenly, utterly alone.”

Guilt welled up inside Eunsook. She hung her head, unable to hold Minho’s heartbroken gaze a second longer. She knew it was her fault that Minho was acting this way but she was alone, too, when she left Korea and it was harder for her because she was pregnant. She had no one to talk to in such a foreign land…Oh what the hell! This was not about her.

“I’m sorry, Minho. But, it is the truth. I left because I was pregnant. It’s complicated. Please understand.”

“Bullshit,” Minho cried, grabbing both of Eunsook’s shoulder and shaking her. “If that was all that there was to it, that you got pregnant, there was no reason for you to leave Korea. I know you. You would have wanted to raise your child there. There is more to this and I want to hear it. All of it.”

A tear escaped Eunsook’s eyes and trailed down her cheek. Minho faltered, hating himself a bit for causing Eunsook to cry. “Please, Eunsook. I need to know w-why.”

“Minho…” Eunsook whispered softly. “I can’t…”

Minho sucked in a breath and released his captive. Eunsook managed to catch a glimpse of his expression closing off before he turned his back to her. “Well,” he started saying. “It has been four years, anyway. I don’t care anymore. Whoever Minki’s father is, I hope you’re happy with him. But give him a heads up will you? He should know that there will come a day that you will just suddenly disappear from his life without any good reason, whatsoever.”

A terrible sadness gripped Eunsook’s heart and she took an unconscious step backward. She felt his words as a slap to her face, stinging. She watched with tear-filled eyes as Minho started walking off towards the direction of the door to the hospital. Panic washed over her in strong waves and she found herself stalking forward, her hands outstretched in front of her, trying to catch Minho and stop him. One thought kept buzzing inside her head: Minho has to know.

“Minki is your son, Minho!”

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

Minki is my…son?

My son?

Mine?

“What?” Minho demanded as he spun around to face Eunsook. He was surprised to see her just a foot behind him, her small hands poised to take a hold of him. He took one good look at her panic-stricken face and resisted the urge to pull her into his arms. Simply put, now was not the time for that.

Eunsook’s arms dropped limply to her sides, her fists clenched, determination shining in her glassy eyes. “Minki is our son.”

Minho shook his head vehemently, as if trying to clear his head free of other insignificant thoughts in order to process this one. “Pardon?” he said slowly. “Minki is our son? How?”

A tiny, sad smile stretched across Eunsook’s lips. She looked nostalgic and guilty, no doubt recounting yesterday’s memory that was not accounted in Minho’s very own. “I believe you remember Hyunjun?”

Minho’s sour expression confirmed a yes to Eunsook’s question and she continued her tale bravely. “I believe your breakup with him was the most…devastating. You drove to my house completely hurt and a bit hysterical. I hated seeing you that way, but at the same time, I was glad that you trusted me enough to give you comfort in your time of need—“

“Of course I trust you,” Minho groused. “You were…are…my best friend.”

“I…yeah,” Eunsook sighed, shoulders slumping. “Anyway, as usual, we went through your…after breakup routine. Well, that is what I call it. It seemed to always do the trick whenever you’re heartbroken. We partied, you got drunk and I brought you home, like always…”

With a start, Minho’s eyes widened, his stomach lurching. He knew what happened next, can read it clearly from Eunsook’s hesitation. “We had sex.” And as if summoned, images of a sweaty, passion-flushed Eunsook came into his mind. She was oddly beautiful.

“Like…a-always.”

"I didn't know..." Minho croaked, shaking his head slowly. "Why?"

Eunsook turned away, not wanting to see the accusation in Minho's eyes. "I always left before the sun was up. I...didn't want you to find out." At this point, no one could blame Minho; it was not an everyday occurrence that you learn of your secret affair with your best friend. So Eunsook listened, waiting for Minho's footsteps to retreat, for the door to close, for him to leave her for good. None of those things came and, instead, Eunsook felt Minho’s hand land on her shoulder, spinning her around to face him.

“You let me use you like that?” Minho whispered and now, Eunsook noticed how badly he was shaking. She could only nod dumbly. “And you kept him?”

“Yes.”

Minho was getting much closer to the real reason why Eunsook left her life in Korea for one in America, all that was left was one more word from him. Eunsook wasn’t sure if now was the right time for another shocking confession. She didn’t think Minho can take much more. But, if he asked, she will be forced to put it all out there. She owed him that much, at least.

Suddenly, it was over and Eunsook was pushed backwards none too gently. “God, Eunsook! Why would you do this?” Minho screamed. “Did it ever cross your mind that I would have wanted to help you raise Minki? He’s mine, too, and you kept him away from me. All this time I thought you were the only one that I lost, Eunsook. But as it turns out, I also lost my son.”

“Minho,” Eunsook choked on a sob and stepped closer to Minho. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she knew it was asking for too much on her part, so she held back and let her hands rest limply on her sides. “I’m sorry. I d-didn’t know what to do back then. I wasn’t so sure with how you will react to knowing that you and I have had sex, much less that I’m pregnant with your child. I panicked and dealt with it the best way that I know; I ran away.”

“Bullshit!”

Eunsook gaped, taken aback by the harshness in Minho’s voice.

“This is just bullshit, Eunsook,” Minho continued, uncaring if he was hurting Eunsook with his words. “Clearly, you weren’t thinking right back then. If you could’ve just—“

“What? I could have just told you that I was pregnant with your child?” Eunsook shot back. “I wonder how that would have ended with you.”

Minho leveled a glare at Eunsook, his lips curled up in distaste. “Maybe I would have reacted badly during the first few minutes,” he defended himself. “But, definitely, I would have accepted the baby. It’s my child, for goodness’ sake! How can I not accept him? Did you not think of that possibility?”

Eunsook, once again, flinched as if struck physically. She felt a fire spreading quickly in her chest; Minho only wanted their child. She was not included in the package. It has been four years and the love she felt for Minho was still strong enough to cause her pain with the knowledge that it was wholly unrequited. “I…”

“And now, he’s sick,” Minho pointed out. His anger was at its peak now, spilling over and coating his words with venom. He couldn’t care less about her feelings now. “Now, he’s dehydrated. He has fever and is confined in the hospital. You hid him from me and couldn’t even take good care of him?!”

The crisp sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the quiet rooftop. Eunsook’s palm has just connected sharply with Minho’s cheek, leaving a bright red handprint on the pale skin. Quickly, Eunsook retracted and cradled her hand close to her chest, twin streams of tears dripping down her face. Her lower lip quivered and her shoulders shook with repressed sobs. “How could you, Minho?” she whispered brokenly.

Wide eyed, Minho merely watched as his best friend bravely held more of her tears at bay and ran. He stubbornly refused to acknowledge the fact that he had no right to say those words to Eunsook and held on to his past pain, that was defiantly pointing out how much her decision from four years ago was heavier and much more unforgivable. However, on the other hand, he couldn't keep the small seed of excitement from growing inside his chest; Minki was his! He had helped create the small boy and the thought alone was enough for a strange warmth to spread throughout Minho's whole body, a small smile stretching across his lips.

After his lunch break, he would make sure to secure his position in the boy's life.

 


End file.
